All is Fair
by mudbloodymary
Summary: Life as Snatcher could be good for Scabior if it wasn't for this mysterious girl who keeps crossing his path.With her reckless behavior and fierce magic she's his type.But Scabior quickly finds out: she's playing for the other side and she's playing well.
1. Prologue

**ALL IS FAIR**

~ PROLOGUE ~

_Some time during the Second Wizarding War.._

So they met again. It felt inevitable, every single time, like they were magnets that just wouldn't stay apart for too long. He was her nemesis. Or was she his? She shook the contemplation out of her mind, focusing on the here and now. How he stood before her, casual, head cocked to the side mockingly. He hadn't even drawn his wand like she had. His hands were idly playing with the ends of a scarf tied round his neck. For once it was just her and him now. She couldn't hear his cronies anywhere close. It would be easy to just disapparate and leave him here. But that wasn't her style. She wouldn't neglect this opportunity to teach him a lesson. He knew that just as well as she did. That's how well they had gotten to know each other. That's why he kept so calm, eyeing her up without rush.

Getting rid of him would make everything so much simpler. The completion of her mission, the protection of those she cared for, the realization of a good night's rest without him troubling her dreams. Getting rid of him would mean, getting rid of the emotional rollercoaster he caused in her head, or was it her heart? _Focus!_

'Now don't play hard to get!' he snarled. 'You knew this had to end some time. You've been a naughty girl long enough!' She wanted to slap him for his condescending tone, as if he had any edge over her. Basically she just wanted to slap him, hard. And scratch him, down his back. _Argh, stop it already!_ Seeing her indecision he approached a couple of steps through the trees. She felt her heart beat accelerate and she knew this reaction was caused by more than fear. He reached for his wand inside his coat. He had a holster of some sort for it so he kept it right under his heart. Even that she knew about him. He was about 30ft from her where he stopped. Her eyes had never left his since she'd discovered his presence and yet only now as they were gazing at each other in silence did his green eyes seem to speak to hers. For a moment she felt they were making a wordless agreement. They wouldn't kill each other; this was business only.

'Incarcerous!'

'Expelliarmus!'

They started to duel. To her it felt like foreplay.


	2. Chapter 1

**So here is the first chapter that explains some of Scabior's background for those of you who are curious. It is his own point of view and as you will see, he's not the best observer today. That's why many things remain in the dark but will make much more sense after the following chapter.**

* * *

CHAPTER 1

_Months earlier.._

It had just turned September and while the days were still sunny and mild, a first cold crept into the evenings that forebode an impending autumn.

Rough voices and cheerful shouting echoed through the crisp night air in the little Scottish village of Hogsmeade. Its main street seemed deserted, most houses dark and empty; only from _The Three Broomsticks_ laughter and chatter could be heard. Through the pub's foggy windows golden, flickering lights seeped into the street and moving figures inside cast long shadows onto the pavement.

A small group of wizards appeared around a street corner. One of them, tall, thin, teetering warily on feeble legs, seemed to be the centre of attention to the others.

'You should ask Mme Rosmerta to give you a hair cut first thing' a burly man growled while raising his hand to ruffle the weak man's tangled long hair.

'Nah, such nonsense, Runcorn' retorted a short wizard with a long blond ponytail who supported the frail-looking man's slow steps by tightly gripping his shoulder. 'What he needs right now is some fattening up. A bowl full of Rosmerta's home-made stew and a glass of firewhisky to bring back his senses and warm him up. He will need all his strength for the task you have assigned to him. Why you couldn't have found a more able-bodied candidate is beyond me. All this time locked up with those Dementors. That he can even walk and talk is a miracle.'

Upon these words the weak man flinched and his legs gave way under his body. The other men steadied him, Runcorn patting his shoulder encouragingly.

'See, you're scaring him with that prison talk' he barked at the older man. Runcorn dragged the thin man forwards towards the brightly-lit pub. 'Come now, Scabior, let's get you inside. Lot's of friendly faces waiting for you in there. They'll be impressed when they hear what you've been selected to do. No one will care where you come from.' And with those words Scabior was shoved into the warmth and light of the crowded pub. _Where I come from_, Scabior thought, the image of a dark fortress surrounded by gushing waters flashed into his mind, _no one has called me by my name_.

~o~o~

Scabior had always made the best of any situation; that was how he got by ever since he had become accountable for himself. Go with the flow, be flexible, identify an opportunity and seize it. Take what you get, give nothing back. This tenet had worked for him for quite some time, until he had been apprehended, that is, and moved to Azkaban for smuggling objects of dark magic into the country. An apprentice at Borgin and Burkes, his best customers, had ratted him out for the reward in galleons that had been placed on his head. _Ah, no hard feelings there anymore,_ Scabior thought, knowing he'd have done the same for the bounty, as he and his escort approached the bar. He cast a glance around. The pub was unusually crowded, he judged. Although he hadn't frequented the place since his time at Hogwarts School he assumed these weren't its regular guests. The atmosphere was loud and excited, bordering on violent. He saw many members of pure-blood families like himself, most of them fellow Slytherins. He recognized several dark wizards he had done business with before his arrest. He even thought he spied some other ex-convicts. Since he didn't look very presentable as it were, he chose not to greet anyone but followed his party towards the bar behind which as blond, shapely barmaid, supposedly Mme Rosmerta, took orders from a group of rogues in black robes. The look in her eyes betrayed a silent trepidation, but other than that she made a brave face. _That's the way you do it, that's how you survive_, Scabior mused as Runcorn lifted him up onto a bar stool, _never let anyone in on your true thoughts_. At that moment the short, blond wizard eyed him suspiciously from his bar stool. _You can't seriously be assuming I might still run for it_, Scabior thought disbelievingly. No, he wouldn't let this opportunity to redeem himself pass, surely not. His still numb mind traveled back a couple of hours, when his dreary life at Azkaban had been interrupted by the visit of the same ministry officials that now framed him at the bar. The short blond wizard had introduced himself as Yaxley, high ranking official in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had disclosed to Scabior the inauguration of a new Minister for Magic after the sudden death of Rufus Scrimgeour and the consequences this would have on people like him. All the while Dementors had prowled outside his cell, sensing they might be losing one of their prisoners. From now on, Yaxley had continued, there would be a need for people like him, people who knew how to get by, who were able to use all tricks of the trade, who were familiar with the underground because they once had belonged to it themselves. In short, the ministry of magic had come to make him an offer he could not refuse: to be a free man again, with a clean record in exchange for his services to the Ministry. By that time Scabior felt too elated already to even pay attention to what they asked of him, to hunt down mudbloods and blood traitors, who posed a threat to the Ministry's goals. This sounded simple enough to Scabior, who by then only had eyes for his wand that was handed to him by Yaxley. His own wand, he had not held in his hand for so long..

'He still seems a bit out of it' one of his companions observed as they ordered their first round of firewhisky from a harassed-looking Mme Rosmerta. Scabior's memory of the earlier happenings slowly faded as he tuned his attention back to the reality of the noisy pub. He straightened up in his seat and felt his wand pressing against the inside pocket of his waistcoat. He couldn't help but grin at this turn of events. 'I see glorious times ahead' he exclaimed in new found ardor just as their drinks arrived.

'That's the spirit, my boy! Now drink up! Magic is Might', Runcorn toasted the group.

'Let's see if we can find any of your new colleagues yet', Yaxley added matter-of-factly while stamping his empty glass back down on the counter. Scabior savored the burning sensation the firewhisky had left in his throat and turned around on his stool to get a good view of the pub. As a Snatcher, that's what his new profession was called, he'd be working in a team. He wasn't sure if he liked that, but he wasn't going to complain.

'There's one' Runcorn pointed to the entrance, which had just opened to reveal a giant of a man, long filthy hair clinging to the back of his head and falling over his massive shoulders. 'Greyback, old chap, over here!' he bellowed.

Another round of firewhisky was ordered as Greyback made his way towards the bar. Scabior noticed people shying away from the huge man who obviously enjoyed the effect he had on the crowd. _A werewolf_, he thought, _that's just brilliant. How important must it be for the Ministry to get hold of those loose blood traitors if they are willing to employ werewolves?_ Greyback reached the group and shook hands with Scabior introducing himself as Fenrir, fellow Snatcher and redeemed outlaw.

'I have high hopes for Thicknesse', he growled after chucking his first whisky. 'He's been a good friend of mine ever since we both joined the Death Eaters'. Scabior flinched. He wasn't used to the fact that Death Eaters, werewolves and pureblood supremacists were able to voice their beliefs so openly. _Ah well_, he thought while the effect of his fourth firewhisky spread through his body like flames, _it's a free world after all._

Scabior's senses became increasingly clouded while alcohol just seemed to be shoved at him as soon as he had emptied his glass. His mood brightening all the while, he felt the certainty of his freedom truly sink in. He wasn't a prisoner any more. No more Dementors who left you starving in your cell filled up with despair. He would have a life again and, he decided, he would live it to the full.

~o~o~

Some time later, he found himself away from the bar in a slightly quieter corner of the pub with the wolf, who had just been blown off by a chubby witch, who took flight, eyes wide in alarm. 'Some of them want to be forced, but this isn't the place for it' Greyback growled, clearly mortified, as Scabior stood by awkwardly. Just a minute ago, one girl had practically thrown herself at him. However he had failed to capitalize on the opportunity as she had just as suddenly disappeared into the crowd. All that was left of her now was his memory of her face grazing his neck and her smell he had taken in – cinnamon and something else, darker, like damp forest soil. _Delicious girl_, he thought as he stood away from the bar listening to Greyback's banter with another guy they had picked up and who the werewolf had presented as a fellow Snatcher.

'They're all off to the Weasley place now…great opportunity to catch the Order all in one place...'

Scabior wasn't really listening, he was miles away. _Now that I'm out of that hellhole with a decent job and all, I can get tons of girls that smell like that_, his intoxicated mind fantasized sullenly while he scanned the pub for that specific girl, who was nowhere to be seen. The pub had gotten considerably less packed. Greyback was talking business now, bloodshot eyes reduced to slits, as he shared his experiences on how to best single out the weakest member of a group of prey, as he called it, when Scabior felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

'We're off now, my boy' Runcorn slurred. 'Enjoy the rest of your first day in freedom just don't forget to report to me at the Ministry tomorrow morning. Wear this and they'll let you in without question.' Runcorn tied a red cloth around Scabior's left upper arm. It felt rather tight. 'And be there on time!' Runcorn warned. 'Yaxley will get nervous if you don't show up. Wouldn't want to set your own band of Snatchers on your trail.' And with a stern glance at Greyback, the Ministry official turned and stumbled out of the pub into the street to disapparate.

'Ah, no worries about those wand wagglers in their London offices', Greyback sputtered, apparently having noticed Scabior's astonishment at Runcorn's exhibit of mistrust. I know my mate Thicknesse. Under his command, blokes like us are amongst the privileged. Once we're out there doing our thing we have free reign.' He flexed his chest muscles in a self-important way, which caused one his buttons to fly off. 'I'll be on my way, too. Staying in the Shrieking Shack tonight. Nice place to have for myself when I'm in Hogsmeade.' Scabior silently lifted a hand in goodbye, realizing for the first time, that he had nowhere to stay that night. He watched the werewolf walk out the door, when he noticed a girl with a black hat following him outside. She seemed familiar. Mumbling a quick 'So long' to the other Snatcher, whose name he had already forgotten, he made his way to the exit. Scabior imagined he could already pick up her scent. _Cinnamon.._

The pub was empty now. Scabior hadn't recognized everyone else leaving. _How drunk am I?_ The barmaid had started turning chairs up on the tables, behind him the other Snatcher made his way up the stairs. He probably stayed in one of the pub's guestrooms. No option for himself; he didn't have any money.

~o~o~

When Scabior stumbled into the street he looked around, hoping the young witch hadn't disapparated. He spotted her turning into a side street leading out of the village, her long hair catching in the wind. He stumbled after her. He didn't have a clue what to say or do when he caught up with her, he was really just curious. What had she wanted from him earlier? After all, she had been the one who had made a pass at him first. At least that was how he remembered it, although he had to admit that his memory of the incident in the pub was all very blurry and he couldn't even be sure she was the same girl. He turned the corner she had taken and saw her far ahead, beyond the last houses. She was much faster than him.

Suddenly he felt a chill. At first it just felt familiar, it almost calmed him. Then he froze. _A Dementor._ How could that be? He turned around and looked up the deserted village lain. At first he saw nothing, then a black figure separated from the shadows and glided towards him. He felt dizzy, the world turned around him. He saw the ground come inexplicably close and felt himself collide with something hard. He heard himself utter words in his defense and his voice sounded shrill, panicked. It certainly did not make an impression on the Dementor who bent down over him. Scabior could feel its rotten hands tighten around his neck. Then everything went black.

~o~o~

When he awoke, it was dawn. He felt something kick his side hard, saw a blinding wand tip in his face.

'Did you spend all night here or did your girlfriend for the night just throw you out?' someone guffawed. Scabior blinked. What had happened? He opened his eyes fully and looked into Greyback's grinning face. Out of nowhere the image of a giant white wolf entered his mind.

'Did you fight off that Dementor?' he stuttered.

'Dementor? You were dreaming, boy. There are no Dementors here! Don't say you're already missing them now that you're out of Azkaban.'

Scabior didn't know what to reply, or think for that matter. He got to his feet awkwardly.

'Now come on, back into Rosmerta's. Breakfast's on me.'

And Scabior followed the werewolf, trying to shake the bewilderment out of his mind. Something weird had happened last night, he hadn't dreamed it. If he could only remember what..

* * *

**Apologies for the length of this and congratulations if you made it down to here. ****Are you curious how Scabior was saved from the Dementor, if it was real at all? Stay tuned for the next chapter which is already written but still needs some editing. It will be the same night but from another person's perspective..**

**If you'd like, check out my tumblr [mudbloodymary] ****where I will be posting links to all future chapters, blog other Potter / Scabior related fun stuff and maybe give some background information on the story.**

**Reviews always encouraged! xx**


	3. Chapter 2

**Big thanks to littlenerd and one anonymous reviewer who gave me encouraging feedback on this!**

* * *

ALL IS FAIR

CHAPTER 2

_Some __12 hours earlier.._

She took a high risk coming here tonight. But most times, she thought, it was better to assess a situation in person than to sit at home and wonder. It was important to grasp the entirety of the situation in order to judge its consequences; and the consequences might be massive. Scrimgeour dead, the Ministry taken over by the enemy; what a difference a day made. There had been signs, yes, but the forwardness with which he dark side had seized power had been unanticipated. She had to get out there to see it for herself. Besides, someone needed her help and she wasn't the one to ignore a friend's pledge for assistance. Encouraged by her own thoughts she turned around on the spot where she had just apparated to face the entrance to _The Three Broomsticks_. _My favourite pub in the world_, she thought affectionately, _and not only because Rosmerta is a good friend._ Upon walking over the threshold she took off her hat, a black tricorn that had become something of a trademark of hers, and breathed in the familiar scent of candle wax, Rosmerta's stew, and stale butterbeer. She looked around. _Not the usual crowd_, she observed immediately.

'April!' she heard her name and turned in the direction of the bar where Rosmerta was waving both her arms to get her attention. 'Thank goodness you're here!'

'Well, I needed to see this for myself' the girl whose name was April answered while approaching the counter. 'What are all these creeps doing here?' she added in a lower voice.

'Apparently _The Hog's Head_ is already bursting, so they branched out to my place' Rosmerta whispered, worried of being overheard. 'I fear for my establishment. They already asked for my blood status.'

'Why, thanks for calling me then' April commented sarcastically. 'Were you just curious to find out what they'll do if they come across a mudblood?'

'Shhh, not that word' hissed Rosmerta, but sounded apologetic. 'Of course, I didn't want to get you into trouble. I just didn't want to be alone with this crowd. I sent my barman straight home. He's Muggle-born, you see. All my usual guests fled as soon as they got the news and the first supporters of You-Know-Who showed up. And the complete Order is invited to a wedding at the Weasleys'.'

'Right, good to know you weren't invited either' April grinned. Then added unsmiling 'So, it's true then. Voldemort disposed of Scrimgeour and crowned one of his pawns Minister?'

'Don't say that name anymore; this is serious now' Rosmerta flinched while hastily refilling two hooded wizards mugs with ale. 'It's all in the _Evening Prophet_' and she discreetly handed a folded newspaper over to April. The young witch scanned the front page. A photograph of an awkward-looking Pius Thicknesse, who was introduced as Scrimgeour's successor as Minister for Magic, was accompanied by a pamphlet-like article stating new Ministry procedures.

'Everybody needs to get their blood status verified', Rosmerta murmured. 'They're not saying what they'll do to those who aren't at least half-bloods. But it looks like you might lose your job.'

April blinked. 'Even if I wasn't Muggle-born, don't you think Aurors will be made redundant anyways now that the Dark side is in control?'

'Right' nodded the barmaid.'The Auror Department will be shut down. They'll employ Snatchers instead. And some of them straight out of Azkaban. The Dementors are on the war path, naturally. I think I felt one pass by the village earlier today. They want their prisoners back..'

'They'll employ what now?' April, who hadn't heard anything following the unfamiliar word Snatcher, goggled.

'It's in the article. Read it!' Rosmerta commanded and left the puzzled witch to make the round through her pub to collect empty glasses and jugs.

April sat down on a bar stool, carefully placing her tricorn halfway across the paper so as to block out any curious glances from the hooded wizards next to her and began to read carefully. She found the paragraph mentioning Snatchers:

"Henceforth, in order to further increase the safety and security of the wizarding community, the long since obsolete Auror Department will be replaced by specially trained security officers. These will be working as Snatching Squads and will assure better protection of wizarding interests in an increasingly Muggle-friendly world. Snatching Squads will be working together closely with the newly formed Muggle-born Registration Commission (MbRC) to ensure efficiency in blood status verification and appropriate treatment of cases of unauthorized use of magic. In order to alleviate the Snatching Squads' high work load and to guarantee the smooth running of Ministry procedures it is therefore required that everyone carry sufficient proof of blood status and, if summoned, report to Dolores Umbridge, Head of MbRC for further investigation. Members of the Snatching Squads can easily be identified by bright red brassards worn around the upper arms, and will have the authority to arrest individuals who, due to their blood status or their relations to Undesirables (as defined above), pose a threat to the wizarding community…"

For the first time that day April became tense. She wasn't one to scare easy; Aurors weren't allowed to scare easy. But this was turning grimmer by the minute; this would affect each and every witch and wizard in the country, not just ministry employees. The wondered what she could expect as 'appropriate treatment' when such a Snatcher found out she was an Auror and a mudblood. She'd rather not know. _It's a witch hunt_, April's Muggle-educated mind observed. _No wait, it's quite the opposite_. She quickly thought of everyone she knew who was of Muggle-descent, herself included obviously. What would happen to them if they disobeyed registration of their status? April feared the worst, an ethnic cleansing of the wizarding world.

'This is outrageous' she hissed at Rosmerta who had returned behind the bar, looking shaken. 'They can't take our magic away from us and claim it for themselves exclusively. I won't allow it! I'll take those fascists down one by one if I have to!'

'I thought you might react that way' Rosmerta replied. 'But maybe it would be wiser to just go into hiding for a while. See how things develop -'

'That's not my style, Rose, you know that' April interrupted her.

The place had become more crowded. Just now a small group of wizards made their way over to the counter. April identified some of them as Ministry officials known to lobby pure-blood supremacy, Albert Runcorn amongst them. She quickly hid her face under her hat – she never wore the tricorn to work – and backed away from the bar. Rosmerta shot her a knowing glance as she turned to take the group's orders of firewhisky.

April strolled through the pub, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. She wasn't exactly sure what she was still doing here. Clearly she shouldn't be amongst these witches and wizards. The risk of being exposed as an Auror, or ex-Auror – that thought stung – was too high. She knew that Voldemort's supporters, especially drunk ones, were prone to mob law. She placed herself in a dark corner from where she could overlook the whole crowded place and glanced back at the bar. Rosmerta seemed close to tears by know. April decided she could not leave her friend like this; she had to stay. She watched how Rosmerta refilled glasses of firewhisky for the band of Ministry officials. Of course they had all reason for boozy celebration; their time had arrived.

For quite some time April kept to herself in her corner. To her relief she was mostly being ignored. Everybody else seemed to know each other and took little notice of her. All the while she kept one eye on Rosmerta behind the bar, ready to intervene any moment should things get out of hand, while at the same time trying to tune in on the conversations around her. She picked up names, addresses and other details about Dark wizards and tried to remember them. The situation seemed chaotic but stable and April started to relax as she stood in her corner, when Fenrir Greyback entered the pub. She almost let out a cry. This wizard was on top of her Auror most-wanted list. If he showed in public, he had to be very sure of the new government's support for him. To her relief the werewolf behaved tamely, even shook hands with the Ministry wizards at the bar, with whom he had started a polite conversation from the looks of it. _Might not be his time of the month_, she sneered under her hat.

~o~o~

April's legs began to turn stiff from standing around. As Rosmerta started another round of collecting glasses, April joined her.

'Seems all steady to me here' she began. 'Doesn't look like they're burning your house down any time soon.'

'Yes, I'm starting to relax a bit, myself' Rosmerta breathed. 'But when that tall, hairy guy at he bar turned up.. The way he keeps looking at me, it gives me the creeps. And his smell..' Rosmerta made a face.

April decided to not alarm her friend by revealing the foul-smelling man's identity. 'Right, just stay away from that guy, you hear me, Rose.'

'No need to tell me that. Listen, I know you must be worried about what's happening tomorrow a work. And I think I can manage here. It looks like people are starting to leave anyway. So if you want to get home, get some rest..'

'That's ok. I can stay a little longer.' And in her head April added, _until the wolf is safely out of here_.

'I truly owe you' the barmaid beamed and, juggling to keep a stack of glasses and mugs afloat in front of her, made her way back to the bar where the group of Ministry wizards began to dissolve. April turned to resume the place in her corner noticing too late that a man was blocking her way. She smashed head-on into his chest.

'Hello, beautiful' came a voice from above her head and she felt an arm enveloping her, a hand sliding down her back. 'Go easy on me' the low male voice purred, noticeably under the influence. She had shoved her face so deep into his shirt close to his neckline that she could smell the whisky on him; and something else, something warm, like burning wood. Contritely she lifted her gaze and took a step backwards, carefully disengaging the man's hand from the small of her back. To anger a dark wizard was something she had been trying to avoid all night. The tall man eyed her curiously. She noticed his chiselled features that somehow did not match the long dark hair that framed his face and shoulders in wild tresses.

'You could have taken my eye out with that pointy hat of yours. Care to take it off for me? Why would you want to hide that pretty face?' he blabbered.

Something about him was off. His manner and words were pompous, overconfident almost, but his greyish green eyes were dark and had a depth to them that did not go with his act. April caught herself getting lost in those eyes that looked down into hers from too close a distance and quickly poised herself. She tried to think of a clever comeback to diffuse the situation but failed. His eyes pierced hers expectantly. She found it difficult to tear her gaze away from him and focus. Then she saw Greyback approaching behind the man; next to the werewolf, the man in front of her looked delicate. _Okay, time to say adieu_, April decided, tipped a finger to the brim of her hat in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner, and without another word ducked sideways out of view. She fled directly into the ladies' bathroom to catch her breath. Her heart was racing, and she knew it wasn't because she had run the short way to the ladies. _He scared me, that's all_, she told herself, wondering if the man's dark eyes had actually stirred fear in her or something quite different. Anyways, she decided it was saver to hide out in the toilets for a while.

~o~o~

'April?' Rosmerta's cautious voice came from the door. 'Are you still in here?'

'Uhm, yeah, time flies when you're having fun' April replied shyly peering around the door of a cubicle.

'Are you hiding, fierce Aurora? You can come out now, they're almost all gone and I'm closing up.' Rosmerta smirked, clearly elated that the evening had ended calmly.

When April followed her back into the pub she just saw Greyback walk out the front door. _I'll keep an eye on that _one, the thought and after saying hushed goodbyes with Rosmerta she followed the werewolf outside.

The cool fresh air felt wonderful in her lungs as April cast a _Silencio_ spell on her shoes and followed Greyback at a safe distance out of the village. She quickly noticed that he was up to no evil but made his way straight to the Skrieking Shack, apparently to spend the night. _I know where you sleep, wolfie_, she thought smugly but gave up her pursuit.

April stopped on the street which led up to Hogwarts School. It felt good to just stand in the dark and quiet after all this madness today. She gazed up at the distant castle, clouded in mist, mostly just a dark silhouette with only a few lit windows, blinking like stars. The school year hadn't started yet. This was the place she'd called her home for seven years, longer than any other place she'd ever lived at. This was the place where only few weeks ago, Albus Dumbledore had died unexpectedly and mysteriously. This was the place where the future path of the wizarding world lay, to be revealed by the choices its pupils made. Melancholy swept over her as she remembered the carefree years she had spent there. She suspected things would be different now: new headmaster, Ministry watch dogs. She shivered involuntarily. Suddenly it seemed several degrees colder. She led the feeling of hopelessness creep up inside her before she realized what was going on. Quickly she whipped around as she heard a muffled cry from behind. A human figure had collapsed in the middle of the street and the Dementor, whose presence, she realized, she should have noticed precious seconds before, was sweeping towards it from the other end of the lane. She sprinted forwards, wand at the ready. The Dementor was quick, he was already bending down over the figure, that struggled and tried to crawl away, but was pinned to the ground by the Dementor's withered hands. _What the hell are Dementors doing attacking people in the open_? If the new Minister was behind this, then it all was surely getting out of hand. She was now at only a short distance to the scene where the victim who, she was now able to make out, was a man, was almost completely obscured by the massive black form. The Dementor was drawing rattling breaths, getting ready for the Kiss. The man whimpered something she was unable to make out. Without precipitance she conjured her Patronus. The white wolf bared its teeth as it ran off to attack the cloaked figure, which twitched as it was hit by the Patronus' bright light, let go off the man's neck and made to escape into the opposite direction, white wolf chasing after it.

With soft steps she quickly approached the man whose head had now collapsed back onto the cobbled stones of the street. She knelt down beside him and tried to shake him back into consciousness.

He seemed very thin and in the light of the distant street lamp rather pale but otherwise unhurt. She studied his face and recognized in him the wild eyed drunk, who had made her hide out in the toilets for the rest of the night. Right now he seemed rather harmless.

'Are you suicidal? Why would any grown wizard not defend themselves? Are you a squib or just too drunk to cast a Patronus?' she rambled, herself surprised at her emotional outburst, but a Dementor's Kiss truly wasn't something she ever aspired to witness. 'If I wanted to see the soul get sucked out of someone I'd book a ticket to Azkaban' she mumbled a little quieter, more to herself. The man stirred now and struggled to lift his shoulders up from the ground to face her. Relieved that he was conscious again she let her hands slip off his shoulders. Her right hand got caught at something wrapped around his upper arm. A bandage? She glanced down and recognized the red brassard.

'Snatcher!' she spat before she could help herself. 'I saved a bloody Snatcher.' He wasn't just a follower, one of the many opportunists that had mingled tonight with those who honestly supported Voldemort. Their eyes met. As his eyes focused on hers, she felt their piercing intensity that had irritated her before. She quickly made up her mind. _No need to be identified_, she concluded, got to her feet lithely, and backed into the shadows away from the street lamp, her eyes never leaving the man's shape. He still didn't seem to understand what was going on, she observed thankfully. And when she saw him bend to the side, starting to throw up, she turned on the spot and vanished with a soft '_pop_'. _He won't remember me,_ she reassured herself.

* * *

**Apologies once again for the length, but in addition to setting the mood for what's to come between Scabior and April (yup, Scapril it is!) I really want to give some background information on what's going down in the wizarding world.**** I am really intrigued by the dark fascist theme that JKR developed here and I think it is a great backdrop against which to present personal drama.**

**Reviews always appreciated! xx**


	4. Chapter 3

**I apologize that it took me so long to update the story. It should not happen again. Big fat massive thanks for all the favouriting, story alerts and reviews! Special thanks to ****Pink-Ink-92 for their review which made my day!**

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**ALL IS FAIR**

CHAPTER 3

Scabior squeezed through time and space and materialized again in an alley way in Westminster, Central London. He staggered inelegantly from the point of his appearance, fighting the urge to be sick. Before Ministry officials freed him yesterday, he hadn't apparated in a long time and it took him some getting used to. _Shouldn't have eaten that hearty breakfast, either_, he reasoned as he leaned against a wall in the deserted alley, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. But there really hadn't been any way to restrain himself, what with being half-starved, Mme Rosmerta (not looking any happier than the night before) dishing up plates and plates of delicious food, and Greyback paying for it all. Not even the wolf's stench had put Scabior off.

The air popped audibly and Greyback twisted into being. Scabior hurried to appear less wobbly than he felt, stepping away from the wall and straightening up.

'Let's get you to the toilets' Greyback said matter-of-factly and motioned down the alley towards the main street.

'No, really, I'm fine' Scabior muttered, silently wondering if by now Greyback thought he was a complete wimp, what with finding him collapsed in the streets earlier this morning and crazy talk about Dementors.

The wolf ignored him and instead made his way out onto the street. Scabior simply followed, sensing the buzz of the big city around him, which he wasn't used to and which excited him. _A city full of possibilities._ But business came first.

'So, what you wanna do now is appear trustworthy. Suck up to any Ministry boss that you meet. They need Snatchers they can rely on, if you look shifty, they put you back into Azkaban.' Greyback shoved Scabior down the stairs to a public toilet under the street. Puzzled Scabior raised his eyebrows but didn't complain.

'New security entrance. Go in. Flush yourself down. See ya later.' Greyback turned to leave.

'What, you not coming?' Scabior asked.

'Nah, Ministry folk don't like to see me there. I tend to cause panic and I'm guessing it will be crazy enough today as it is. Just wanted to make sure you found yer way.' Greyback winked and made his way up the stairs.

Scabior stood perplexed for a second, then he shrugged and entered a cubicle. He didn't like being baby-sat anyway. He lifted the toilet seat and climbed into the bowl. And he would show those officials what integrity was. His feet got soaked. No one needed to think that only because his past had included several cases of bad judgment, he was some unreliable ex-con scum. He pulled the cord next to his head. _Screw them,_ _I'll be the best they ever saw_, Scabior thought darkly as he flushed himself down the toilet.

Underground, in the Ministry Atrium pandemonium reigned. Irritated Scabior fought his way through the crowd towards a service desk and asked the information witch for Runcorn's office.

'First floor' she snapped without looking at him.

~o~o~

April spent a short night filled with dreams of Dementors' rotten hands groping her, slicing her skin all over her body with their bony fingers, sharp as glass. They had dragged her towards a tall dark figure with deep, sparkling green eyes and a menacing grin who called her beautiful while bending down to her. She had struggled to get free and run but her dream self had had no chance against those Dementor hands. The man had stood too close; she could smell his long wild hair as he brought his lips to a wound the Dementors had left above her collar bone. He had licked her blood. 'Mudblood' he had hissed while stepping away looking revolted. The dream had ended with the man snapping her wand in two like a twig as he left her to the Dementors who dragged her body into nothingness. _My wand.._

April awoke with a start and got out of bed. _Nonsense_, she thought rationally. She knew today at the Ministry would be crucial but she doubted that anyone would take her wand or leave her to the Dementors. She expected to loose her job, that was all. She could always go into accounting, or become a shop assistant at Flourish & Blotts, if they still employed Muggle-borns. Her mood became more hopeful as she waved her wand to make a cup of coffee while gazing out of the window at the picturesque village she called her home. The first time she had visited Godric's Hollows she had fallen in love with the place. Her affection had two reasons: the place had a long history of prominent wizard inhabitants, ending with the Potters, which made her as a Muggle-born feel more connected to the wizarding world; secondly, the village was quiet and peaceful and April needed that to balance her fast-paced job.

A noise disrupted her reverie. An owl was tapping the window, a letter tied to its claw. She let the bird in and untied the parchment. The owl flew off hurriedly while April read the note:

"_April,_

_there's something terribly wrong. The Ministry has fallen. They're after the Order. Mad-Eye is dead. __As t_he situation is getting out of hand, I'm resigning as Auror, explaining it with my condition. You mustn't attract their attention by staying away from work. Go to the Ministry and fain innocence, but be careful.

_Be safe, find me if you need help,_

_Tonks_"

April felt deep gratitude towards her best friend and colleague at the Auror Office, Nymphadora Tonks. Members of the Order of the Phoenix had always been at high risk. It must not have been easy for her to send this message while fearing for her, her husband's, and their unborn baby's life. Her heart sank as she thought of Alastor. He had been her superior. April burned the peace of parchment, leaving no trace of its message. Images of Dementors and red-armbanded Ministry Snatchers penetrated her mind again. Tonks was right. Backing out of work today would look suspicious. She had nothing to hide; her blood-status was in the files anyway. April took a calming breath, gripped her wand tightly and turned on the spot.

~o~o~

After finding his way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the top of the gigantic Ministry building the rest of Scabior's initiation as Ministry safety officer went rather unceremoniously. He was thankful for that, he hated any display of authority, at least if it was displayed against him. Runcorn was nowhere to be seen. Instead Scabior was received by a bad-tempered assistant who talked him through his new role. He received a little black book, full of names and details of people who were 'Undesirables' as the assistant called it.

'If you come across one of those, escort them to the ministry immediately. Your copy of the book will automatically be updated. Keep in mind, Undesirables are ranked according to the threat they pose to the community. High ranking undesirables will also yield highest reward. Violence should only be applied to a sensible degree. The Ministry would prefer if targets could be handed over alive and in one peace. Use of unforgivable curses only as and when absolutely necessary. Never use Memory Charms; we need to question every snatched target. Base salary is paid weekly. Reward in Galleons will be paid out to the Snatcher Squad as a whole. It is our own responsibility to allocate fairly. The Ministry does not appoint Squads, or leaders. You will find your own group and rank. You will either work down in the courtrooms to assist Muggle-born registration or in the field on your own, according to Ministry requirements. If you need a place to stay while not in the field, the Ministry recommends the Leaky Cauldron. Many Snatchers without fixed abode (he gave Scabior a snooty look when he said this) stay there. Any questions?' the assistant rattled off.

'Base salary' Scabior said.

'Right' the assistant handed over a bag of coins that clanked and felt heavy in Scabior's hand. His green eyes sparkled. The assistant remained indifferent.

'Ah, there is Sam Roukin, another security officer' he announced, looking over Scabior's shoulder through his open office door. 'He can explain anything else. Just keep the time in mind. Twelve o'clock!' and he shoved Scabior out the door.

'What's twelve o'clock?' Scabior asked Roukin, a towering bloke with a sheepish smile.

'Usually I'd say lunch, but today is the day the students return to Hogwarts. We're supposed to keep an eye out for Undesirable Number One.'

Scabior opened his little black book. From the first page a youth stared up at him. Bespectacled, skinny, yet defiant.

The caption said _Harry Potter_.

~o~o~

Finding the usual entrance blocked – she had usually directly apparated into the Ministry Atrium – April found herself instead on a London street somewhere above the Ministry. Helplessly she looked around when she recognized a Ministry witch on her way down to a public ladies' bathroom below the street. April followed. She hadn't been informed of any change of entrance and had to borrow a small golden coin from another witch to flush herself down. _Gross!_ The Atrium had changed considerably. A gigantic white monument was being erected in its middle, witches and wizards were squirming about everywhere. Quickly, April ducked into the first elevator to level 2, Auror Office. With a flick of her wand she produced a stream of hot air with which she tried to dry her socks while she soared upwards.

She found the Auror offices deserted. Loose papers on the floor and pulled out drawers gave the impression that the place had been searched.

'Miss Solo, we've been expecting you' came a voice from Alastor Moody's office. April whipped around. She saw the red armband first. _It's not him_, she thought as the wizard walked towards her, feeling a pang of regret that her rational mind could not explain.

The Snatcher was fat and troll-like looking with zig-zagy razored hair. He simply told her to come with him and escorted her one level up where a newly affixed plaque read 'Muggle-born Registration Commission – Head Dolores Umbridge'. April's mouth went dry, her hands went moist. She thought of her wand, she had casually tucked into the waistband of her pants earlier. A stout little witch in pink robes walked through the corridor towards her and the Snatcher.

'April, dear, how nice of you to come in today. Many of your colleagues have called in sick' the witch called out sweetly. 'I am Dolores Umbridge, Head of Muggle-born Registration.' She did not shake hands with April, but motioned the Snatcher to remove himself before she continued.

'As you must have heard the Ministry is being restructured at the moment and I am afraid your recent position will not be available for the time being.'

_Here comes the sack,_ April thought, feeling prepared, waiting for Umbridge to speak the words. Umbridge led her through the corridor into a great hall full of witches and wizards working at desks and she continued unfazed by April's silence.

'However the Ministry likes to keep loyal employees close. That's why I have personally arranged for you to be transferred into my department.

April stopped in her tracks. She hadn't expected that.

~o~o~

Scabior stood at King's Cross Station just outside platforms 9 and 10 and was bored. Roukin and he had apparated directly from the Ministry (fortunately this time it had felt less sickening) and had just met Greyback outside the station. Now Greyback and Roukin were on platform 9 ¾ filing through students, pets and luggage, while Scabior had decided to stay behind. If the Potter kid showed up, he would be the first to see him. Of course he was familiar with the story surrounding Harry Potter. Still he didn't understand the fuss that was being made about the boy, and quite frankly he didn't care. He leaned against a billboard, enjoyed the view of passing, unsuspecting Muggles and counted the Galleons inside his bag. _Phew_, he thought, _not bad at all_. He would be able to make more than a decent living off this. He held the bag up to his face and shook it to make the coins clang. A Muggle passed by, gave him a peculiar look and then pleasantly tipped a small golden coin into his bag. Scabior was offended. Did he look like a beggar? He glanced down at himself and decided he did. Ripped black shirt, faded pants, battered shoes. He tossed the Muggle coin away and looked up at the big station clock. It said 12:07. _The kid's not coming._ It was a good time to take care of a few logistics. He needed better clothes and he needed a bed for the night. Muggle clothes seemed more appropriate to Scabior since he would be out in the open a lot and didn't like to be stared at when wearing robes. _Muggle clothes, Muggle transport, and no need for apparating amongst Muggles_, he thought and made his way over to the tube station. He had always thought an underground train a pretty fascinating thing. Below crowds of Muggles were squeezing through barriers. _What's the use of that?_, Scabior thought and as a little display flashed and asked him to present some kind of seafood he simply mumbled a Confundus charm and, elated that it had worked on the machine, passed through. He looked around for the right way; apparently London had several underground trains. _Black one_, he picked at random.

He got off two stops later. Riding the tube hadn't been as much fun as he had hoped. It went really slow. The station was called Camden Town. _Let's see what inconspicuous Muggle clothes I can find here_, Scabior thought in anticipation and stepped out into the bustle of the street.

~o~o~

April felt trapped. Panic boiled up insider her repeatedly but she forced it back down. _Act innocent._ She sat in the great hall with at least two dozen other witches and wizards each at their own little desk, all facing the office into which Umbridge had retreated after making sure April was occupied. Unenthusiastically April waved her wand, thereby folding and stacking pamphlets titled '_Mudbloods and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society'_. She wondered if she should consider herself lucky to still be in paid work or if she should set fire to the hall and run for it. Clearly Umbridge had positioned her here to keep an eye on her. Cautiously she gazed up at Umbridge's door to which an electric blue eyeball was fastened. Her brain wanted to think of Alastor, but her heart forbade it. Runcorn, one of the officials April had evaded the night before, had entered the office a moment ago. Now the door sprang open and he exited with Umbridge at his heel.

'If he is not attending his final year, then what is he up to?' Umbridge snapped.

Runcorn seemed lost for words. 'He might just be in hiding. Just because they call him The Chosen One doesn't mean that he has an agenda..'

'You need to find the boy immediately! Send your Snatchers out, catch him alive. Only when we hand over the boy to You-Know-Who will resistance be overcome and order finally established.' Umbridge seemed mad with rage as she chased Runcorn away.

April put the pieces together. The Dark Lord's new Ministry was after the Boy Who Lived, Voldemort's nemesis and symbol of hope to people like April. Their plan was to eliminate Harry Potter and thereby to establish Voldemort's supremacy. And now Harry Potter hadn't been at the Hogwarts Express – _clever boy_ – and the new Ministry was going ballistic.

~o~o~

Scabior was satisfied. He wasn't into clothes at all but strolling through the stalls of Camden Market had been fun. The Muggle place reminded him of Diagon Alley and its curious little shops. He was now owner of a good pair of boots, plaid pants with a studded belt, a military shirt and, best of all, a big leather coat that seemed to confer authority. Thinking of the coming winter he had also gotten a warm scarf. In addition, he had made a phenomenal bargain. Since he realized he had no Muggle money he had simply confunded he shop owners who had thereupon willingly given him the wares for free. Muggles were stupid.

He was now in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, flames in the fireplace licking at his old clothes. _Forget the past, grand times ahead._ A note had appeared inside the little black book informing him that tomorrow he would start off working in the Ministry dungeons overseeing Muggle-born interviews. _Easy._ Scabior left his room to go downstairs and have barman Tom's dinner with Greyback and Roukin, who had also taken lodging at the pub. A bed, food, clothes, and company. That was all he needed. Life was starting to be good.

~o~o~

Life was starting to seriously suck. After Umbridge's rage in front of Runcorn, the rest of April's day had been quiet, but she did no trust the piece. She hadn't dared speak with anyone at the other desks, not knowing who could be trusted, and had merely continued to fold pamphlets and later stacked 'WANTED' posters that promised 10,000 Galleons for Harry Potter's head. All the while she had kept her head low as the bright blue eye in Umbridge's door had kept soaring over the spot where she sat. She feared, that merely by being transferred, the problem of her being a Muggle-born ministry employee was not solved. Now, as she apparated home, her disquiet was confirmed by a Ministry owl that waited outside her front door. It had delivered a summons from the Muggle-Born registration:

"_F.A.O. April W. Solo,_

_y__ou are herewith required to attend a blood purity hearing concerning proof of your blood-status. The hearing will be held tomorrow 11AM. It is mandatory that you bring the wand you presently perform magic with. Non-attendance will be understood as disobedience against Ministry authority and will be persecuted._

_Sincerely,_

_Dolores J. Umbridge_"

April felt faint. Of course this wasn't over yet. How she wished she had someone to talk to right now, someone who could give advice. April stood in her dark kitchen and felt very alone.

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**As always, Thank you for reading. Please don't be disappointed because Scabior and April haven't even met in this chapter. I promise some Scapril action in the following chapter.**

**Oh and if you are wondering: I stole the name Samuel Roukin from the actual actor who played Scabior's fellow Snatcher in the movie. If you want to know who he is, you can look him up.**

**Reviews always welcome! xx**


	5. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for reviews, favorites and alerts! This took me a while to write. Can you imagine, I was actually dreading to write the hearing scene? I shouldn't be scared of my own story!**

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**ALL IS FAIR**

CHAPTER 4

Scabior was up early. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror in his room at the Leaky Cauldron and marveled at a strand of red hair that had appeared down the middle of his head. Why was his memory always the first thing to go when he drank? He furrowed his brow and thought hard._ Right._ He had spent the evening downstairs in the pub, getting pissed with Greyback and Roukin. The werewolf had boasted about the things he did when he turned. How he bit wizards, even young boys at random. How he could scare anyone into stupor. How he could make any woman do his bidding, if he threatened to bite her. How he bit them anyway when he was finished. Roukin had listened open mouthed while Scabior had only found it unfair how someone like Greyback was allowed to terrorize the country freely while he himself, comparatively harmless in his crimes, had been locked up in prison for years. Greyback had taken his gloomy look for envy and had promised both him and Roukin, that their Snatchers' armbands would make all the difference.

'Wizards will fear you and the most delicious girls will do anything to please you.' At Greyback's words, Roukin's eyes had gone glassy and Scabior thought he smelled cinnamon from somewhere.

'You'll see it tomorrow at the hearings, Scabior. Girls are at their prettiest when they look at you with those scared eyes.' The wolf flashed his teeth showily. Shortly thereafter Roukin had hexed Scabior's hair armband-red so that, in his slurred words, 'the girls still know who their boss is even when no one's wearing any clothes anymore'.

Scabior chuckled at his reflection. _Looks like I'm the boss.._

_~o~o~_

Naturally, April hadn't slept. She had weighed her options. Over and over again. She could run for it. But then they would set those Snatchers on loose her and that did not seem like a desirable outcome. They probably weren't all as inept as the one she had accidentally saved from the Dementor. The only way really was to go to the hearing and appear cooperative. _But if they take my wand?_ They couldn't do that. They had no right. They could fire her, make her work under Umbridge to publish pure-blood propaganda. But they could not charge her with anything. She had always been a loyal Ministry employee.

April sighed and wistfully glanced at her tricorn, which she left on its hook. She loved to wear that hat; she could hide her face underneath it. She got ready to apparate to the Ministry. As the dutiful Ministry witch she sought to embody today, she would work at her new desk until her hearing at 11AM.

~o~o~

As the dutiful Ministry Snatcher Scabior embodied since yesterday, he handled his task of escorting mudbloods to their hearings with great enthusiasm. Greyback, who had not come to the Ministry again but had left for Hogwarts to watch out for signs of Harry Potter, had been right. People – Scabior had been advised not to think of them as witches and wizards – reacted panicky as soon as they saw his red armband. After years in Azkaban, where no one had paid him any form of respect, he had to admit that people's reactions flattered him. In an odd way, he did enjoy their dread. His confidence grew with every person he picked up in the Atrium, where they had to wait, led them to the lifts to go down to level 9 and then further down the stairs into the labyrinthine corridors to the court rooms of level 10. Their broken voices when they answered Umbridge's cold questions filled him with a feeling of superiority that he had lacked for too long. _Like I was born to be a Snatcher_, he thought smugly.

Not everything went smoothly, however. When that Umbridge witch had suspended the hearings to attend the induction of the new Minister for Magic, a Muggle-born man had tried to make a run for it. Scabior had single-handedly captured him, which had earned him respect from the other Snatchers, whose magic, Scabior thought, wasn't quite up to par. The others had then given the poor guy a good hexing, resulting in a bloody nose, and afterwards, to make an example of him, paraded him through the crowded Atrium past the Minister. Runcorn and Yaxley had been standing next to Thicknesse and Scabior had seen their approving looks.

Now the hearings were in progress again and all Scabior had to do was stand near the court room exit and look menacing, while Umbridge rattled down the same questions over and over again. While he kept one eye on the Dementors that floated around the ceiling behind a protective spell, Scabior had time to reflect on his day so far. As a matter of fact, he didn't mind manhandling the men. It was important to intimidate them, so they were less likely to try something funny. Grudgingly, Scabior thought how rough he himself had been treated during his own trails. Therefore he did not mind growling a little and pushing them around if they didn't obey immediately. But despite Greyback's rant the night before, he felt different about the women.

Next he was escorting a tiny little woman, well into her 70s, down to the courtrooms. The little witch – no, woman – had flinched when she first saw him so he didn't dare to touch her or get too close. Scabior didn't quite understand the logic behind questioning an old lady who had used magic longer than even Voldemort himself was alive but that was beside the point. It didn't help either, that, with her silver curls and old-fashioned hat, she reminded him of his own grandmother – who was as pure-blood as can be, fortunately. The little old lady trembled as they rode down the lift and Scabior tried to calm her a little by saying as politely as possible 'Now, now, Ma'am, this is all standard procedure'. But it didn't help. When he led her into the courtroom, she was close to tears. Scabior leaned against the exit next to Roukin and struggled to see the bigger picture.

~o~o~

April had mutinously stacked brochures just like the day before, until they were all called down to the Atrium for Thicknesse's introductory speech. Umbridge's office had been empty all morning; she had probably already been downstairs at the blood-purity hearings. April and her colleagues were placed close to the Minister, right under Umbridge's nose as she smugly stood to Thicknesse's right. Thicknesse's speech itself was so poisoned, so blatantly untruthful and downright upsetting, that April had difficulty to keep her mouth shut. For the first time that day her dread transferred into anger, which was however promptly reversed as she spotted him. She should have expected to see him today, but it still hit her like an electric current. The Hogsmead Snatcher, with his intense eyes and his chiseled face. He had changed a lot, she thought. He wore different clothes, had a different walk, he strutted through the crowd which divided before him, like he owned the place. He met no ones eye, stared straight ahead. When he reached the Minister, he bowed. But it wasn't a sincere bow. Instead of lowering his head he gave the Minister a self-righteous look. _I should have finished him when I had the chance_, she thought bitterly as she was chased back upstairs. There wasn't much time until her hearing. _Feign innocence._

~o~o~

There was another witch, or girl, waiting for Scabior in the Atrium. This one was just as pale and frail-looking as the old lady earlier, but her looks stirred something dark in him that he immediately shoved back into the depth of his subconscious mind. Her shy, dark eyes made Scabior think of Greyback's remarks again, but quickly he pulled himself together. He wouldn't end up like that stinking wolf.

Trying to make the situation look less like an arrest he laid one hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring but authoritative sort of way. The girl did seem quite timid. However, before he could admit to himself that he enjoyed her warmth and soft movement under his hand, she shrugged him off.

'I'll walk by myself, if you don't mind' the girl snapped, surprising Scabior with her testy tone.

'Now, don't be like that, love. I'm only doing my job here' Scabior murmured slightly amused. A little spat didn't impress him. He could see she was scared to death.

~o~o~

April let her shoulders drop and scuffed her feet as the Snatcher escorted her to the courtrooms. She thought she did a pretty good job at appearing intimidated and harmless, apart from losing it once and yelling at him for touching her. But that had been because it had reminded her of the way he had stood too close at the Three Broomsticks and she had panicked a little. Otherwise she had been right about the state of his memory. If he remembered her he put on a good show to hide it and she was pretty certain he wasn't that good an actor. As they walked through the dungeons she caught herself glancing sideways at his face. It was dark down here and shadows caught under his cheekbones, made his grey-green eyes sparkle out of dark sockets. He walked with confidence and April imagined she could truly fall for him if he weren't playing for the wrong side, if he weren't some loser with limited magical potential, if he weren't some self-righteous prick. _Too many 'ifs'_, April chased the embarrassing thought away. Besides, she had more important things to worry about.

They had reached one of the courtrooms and the Snatcher led April to a chair in its middle. Umbridge smiled sweetly down upon her from behind a huge desk. A little witch sat to her left, apparently her assistant. The Snatcher had taken his place behind April at the exit, next to a second Snatcher. _Four people_, April analyzed_, I have fought one against four before_. But then her eyes moved to the ceiling and she saw the Dementors.

Umbridge cleared her throat and the hearing began. The questions were a lot of bullshit that wasn't anyone's business, April found.

No, she wasn't from England originally.

No, her parents had only moved to London when she was 10.

No she hadn't heard of wizards and witched before she received the letter from Hogwarts School.

April knew what Umbridge was after and she hated her for it. Umbridge wanted to make clear that she had neither by relation nor tradition any right to call herself a witch.

Out of the blue, Umbridge drew her wand and April felt her own wand soar from her inside pocket into Umbridge's chubby fingers. _Shit. _The situation had suddenly become infinitely more serious.

'So tell me exactly how you justify carrying this magical object if nothing in your personal history suggests relation to our society' Umbridge simpered.

'Uhm', April's mind went blank. All she could perceive was _her_ wand in Umbridge's clutches. April jumped up from her chair, making her way towards Umbridge's stand. She needed her wand back, nothing else mattered. Within a split second she felt a Snatcher at her side. It was the other one. He wrestled her back. He had a wand. He was uncareful. April snatched it from him. And then her Auror-trained brain took over.

'Accio my wand!' she screamed. Umbridge blinked stupidly as the wand soared back into April's shaking hand.

'Scabior, do something!' Umbridge shrieked. Blindly, April cast Stunning and Disarming spells around as she darted for the door.

~o~o~

Scabior had been bored and not been paying attention until he heard Umbridge scream for him. The next moment his wand had soared out of his loose grip.

_Okay, that was unexpected. _Scabior ducked behind Roukin as April's Stunning spell hit them, using Roukin's body as a human shield. He didn't mind a bit, he'd never said he was a team player. Besides, it was Roukin's own bloody fault; the crazy witch – girl – whatever, was running amok with Roukin's wand. Scabior looked around, assessing the situation and found that everybody else was stunned or unconscious. The Dementors were uselessly floating behind the protective screen above; Scabior was thankful for that. Apparently it was on him alone to bring the girl back. He picked himself up, shoved Roukin's rigid body carelessly aside and, since at first glance he could not make out where his wand had landed, followed her softening footsteps unarmed into the long corridor. If he was lucky she would be held up at the lifts one level above.

~o~o~

April darted down the corridors. _Elevators_, she thought, _it's the only way out. If I make it to the elevators on level 9 I have chance.._ She sprinted around a corner and up a set of stairs only to enter another dark corridor. It was lucky she knew her way around the dungeons on levels 9 and 10. She had had to come here occasionally to attend hearings of people she had captured as an Auror. She heard quick footsteps behind her now, but she already ran at full speed. Unthinkingly she tossed the Snatcher's wand, with which she had summoned her own, away, as if the loss of its weight would make her any faster. She turned another corner and saw the lifts ahead. None of them were waiting; the footsteps behind her grew louder. _Shit, shit, shit.._

~o~o~

Scabior could see her for a split second before she turned another corner. She wouldn't outrun him. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, making him run faster, making his mind work quicker. He saw something on the floor ahead. He nearly flew past it, but recognized Roukin's wand. He bent down, hardly loosing pace, and snatched it up. _Bad mistake, girlie,_ he thought. He could see her ahead now, in front of the lifts, thwarted, trapped. There was no other way up. Her little escapade would be over soon.

~o~o~

She was terrified. She could hear someone running at her. She glanced behind but could not peer into in the darkness of the corridor. One of the lifts arrived now. Its doors slid open in slow motion. She darted inside. _Atrium_, she pleaded, _what took those doors so long to close?_ The grates began to slide shut. Beyond them she could see her pursuer now (_Of course it was him. Who else? Scabior, Umbridge had called him.._) flying out of the corridor like an arrow, coming straight at her. She realized she wouldn't make it. He threw himself through the closing doors, furiously determined. The doors shut and together they soared upwards.

Still April felt a certain triumph. At least she was still in the elevator, her doorway to freedom. For a long second she only looked at him, wand raised, anticipating his next move. He seemed to be doing the same. But then he took initiative and just came at her. She didn't have a chance to utter a spell. He just rammed his full body weight into her, smashing her into the lift wall behind her. The impact knocked the air out of her. April felt her legs give in under his force and she sank to the ground in pain. One of her ribs felt broken. He was immediately on top of her. His one hand clasped the wrist of her wand hand, agonizingly beating it into the hard elevator floor, but she wouldn't let go of her wand, _never_. His other hand reached out for her throat now. With strong fingers he cut off her airway. He still held his own wand between his fingers and her throat. She choked, she panicked, she hurt and she couldn't think clearly anymore. She tried to kick and wriggle him off but he sat heavily on top of her thighs, trapping her legs. The only part of her that was still free to move was her left arm. At this point her panicked mind detached from her body. She saw herself and the Snatcher as if she were watching the scene in slow motion. He bent closer to her, shifting his weight from her thighs to her hips, painfully close to her damaged rib. She couldn't discern if he wanted to speak to her or just intimidate her more. All she knew was that his face was now within reach of her left hand. With her trapped wand hand, she couldn't perform magic anymore, but she could still fight like Muggles did in drunken pub brawls. She saw her fist fly forward, grazing his cheekbone, colliding with his nose, sending his head to the right. Clearly he hadn't seen this coming. His upper body withdrew backwards instinctively as the pain set in. His grip released on her neck and wrist. _Now, now or never_. As she struggled to free her legs from under him and staggered to her feet, the Atrium slid into view outside the grated doors. April thanked the heavens as the doors slid open not a second too early.

The Atrium was almost empty. April ran blindly towards the fireplaces to the left. Involuntarily she cast a quick glance over her shoulder. The Snatcher still knelt in the lift, looking after her but not moving. She nearly slipped on the Atrium's smooth marble floor as she turned a sharp corner towards the fireplaces. Their green flames came into view, her way out. She ran with such force into the closest fireplace, she should have smashed into its back wall. Instead the green flames pulled her up, up and away. The force disgorged her into the public toilets. She did not take the time to run up the stairs. She turned on the spot in front of the row of grubby sinks and was gone.

~o~o~

_Mudblood bitch_, Scabior cursed under his breath as he brought his hand to his face. He felt warm blood trickling from his nose. She had hit him full force, the Muggle way. Scabior had to admit that it hurt. But he had only himself to blame. She had kept struggling so hard against his choke-hold; she had been blind with fear. He had wanted to bend down to her ear, whisper to her to be still, let go of her wand and he would let her breath. He had wanted to intimidate her into obeying him. It had worked on others. But then he had taken in her scent, and it had sidetracked him, so he hadn't seen the fist coming. He knew her. At least he had met her before. Two days ago, Hogsmeade, the Death Eater party. She had been there. A mudblood mingling with Voldemort's folk. He had found her attractive, her scent. _Cinnamon.._

As he bled onto the elevator floor, the memory of his first night in freedom was coming reluctantly back. And there was something else about her and that night which he could not remember but which made him incredibly uneasy.

The dim memory of her unsettled him. So much so, that now, as he saw her running, he let her go. What was she really, a spy? And she had feigned such innocence today. He wouldn't let himself be fooled by a mudblood again. _What kind of game are you playing, girlie?_, he thought as she glanced back at him with huge, dark eyes and vanished out of sight.

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**Okay, so Scabior got bitch-slapped, literally. And now he's on the war path with mudbloods. Can you blame him? Nobody likes a bloody nose. **

**And April has learned her lesson as well. She'll not underestimate him a second time. And with being a dissident all of a sudden, it looks like she's in need of a new life plan.. **

**If this were a movie, this chapter would mark the end of the first act. The hunt is on! Stay tuned and review if you'd like! xx**


	6. Chapter 5

**I want to thank you all for the love that April is getting. It really makes me all warm and fuzzy inside when I'm being told that my OC / story are special. To answer ****CrystalGuns' question: yes, there will be more on April's back story, but only in increments as it fits into the story.**

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**ALL IS FAIR**

CHAPTER 5

April stormed into her flat in Godric's Hollow, her face was tear-streaked and her knees wobbly. The hearing hadn't exactly gone well. And now she had blasted her way out of the Ministry and that wasn't good either, was it? Headlessly she raced around her small flat, picking up things, clothes mainly, but also her notebook, and stuffing them into a shoulder bag. It wasn't big; she used it to go grocery shopping. Thanks to an undetectable Extension charm she could usually fit a whole week's shopping inside. Now it was filled with essentials. Hurriedly she exchanged her sneakers for sturdy leather boots. She had to be quick. She couldn't stay here. They knew where she lived. They could be here any minute. Scabior. The Snatcher she had idiotically drooled over. How naïve she had been. How wrong she had been about him. He was neither dim nor handsome. He was a monster who had cracked her rib, smashed her wrist. How wrong she had been about all of this. They wouldn't just have sacked her; they would have taken her wand at best, fed her soul to the Dementors at worst. That she had escaped had been mere luck. Her punch must really have had hit home. The Snatcher's eyes (she tried not to think of him by his name), as she fled, had been full of hurt and uncertainty. _Quite weird actually._ He had let her go so easily. She couldn't stand it when she was not able to read people. And he was just very difficult to figure out; she had realized that when she first bumped into him at Rosmerta's. _It's frustrating. No, it's making him all the more dangerous_, April corrected herself.

She slung the bag over her shoulder, wincing as it collided with her broken rib, and looked around. She probably wouldn't be able to return anytime soon. Had she thought of everything? _The pictures!_ She hurried into the kitchen to the pin board where she stuck all her photos and post cards. Most of the photographs were of her and Tonks, pulling faces, jumping out behind the frames, choking with laughter. There were some with Rosmerta and some with other people she knew back from Hogwarts and from the Auror Office. Quickly she took them off the wall and set them on fire in the kitchen sink. Whoever would come and search her flat, no one needed to know who she was friends with. There was one photograph left. It showed her visiting her parents in Paris last year. It was the only one that didn't move. April hesitated, then she took the picture of her and her parents and stuffed it into the shoulder bag. Only her parents' postcards were now left on the board. They lived abroad, they would be safe. She was ready to leave.

April was just about to grab her tricorn of its hook behind the door when she heard a sound downstairs. _It's them!_ She turned on the spot, leaving her hat behind.

~o~o~

Umbridge had been furious. Scabior hadn't really listened to the tirade of insults she spat at him and Roukin after he had returned to the dungeons and released everyone from their stunning spells. Somehow he couldn't blame the mudblood girl for her feat. Umbridge definitely was one Hippogriff short of a flock. But his nose still bled and his pride was still hurt and his mind was still puzzling over the question why that mudblood had been amongst the Death Eaters two days ago. It didn't help either that through his own blood he could still smell her scent, and that, if he was honest with himself, that scent had accompanied him ever since he had woken up in his own vomit in the middle of a Hogsmead lane. He was sure there had been some kind of close contact between him and her. Next time he laid hands on her, he would make sure to find out. After avenging his bloody nose.

Maybe this opportunity would present itself sooner than expected. Before dismissing him and Roukin from courtroom service, Umbridge had made it his responsibility to get the girl back. Now her picture had appeared inside the little black Snatcher book he carried and he decided to have a look around her home. Roukin, who started so see Scabior as superior, trailed along. He felt he was mostly to blame for her escape. Scabior did not disagree. He made his way to the fireplaces outside the Atrium, sore nose buried in his black book on the mudblood girl's page:

_**April W. Solo**_

_Born: 20 June 1985, in Vienna, Austria_

_Residence: 7b Lion Lane, Godric's Hollow _

_Blood status: Muggle-born_

_Profession: Auror_

_Hogwarts House: Gryffindor_

_Wand: 12", Oak, Unicorn hair_

_WANTED for offences against the Muggle-born registration decree and violent attack of Ministry employees_

So she had been an Auror. That explained her efficient escape. It could also be the reason for her appearance at the Three Broomsticks. She had been serving as spy to a Ministry which had already fallen. _And I almost underestimated you, mudblood._

'We're going to Godric's Hollow' Scabior explained to Roukin, who had followed at his heels, before stepping into the green fire.

Scabior had never been to this old wizarding village but it didn't take him long to find the mudblood's address.

'You think she's home?' Rouking asked innocently as they stood on Lion Lane in front of her door.

'Doubt it' Scabior grunted, starting to get irritated by Roukin's witlessness. 'She was a trained Auror. She must know she's being hunted now.

'Then what are we doing here?' Rouking asked confused. Scabior looked around.

'We're sniffing her out' he said and kicked the door in.

~o~o~

April had not traveled far. Alastor Moody had used to declare, that her curiosity would some day get her killed. She remembered this as she carefully glanced around the corner of the Godric's Hollow village lane. She regretted leaving her tricorn behind. Down the street outside her house two wizards were standing around, peering up at her windows. April identified them as the two Snatchers from the courtroom. Scabior and the other tall, slow one. Scabior looked around and she quickly withdrew her head behind the street corner.

'April, who in Merlin's name are you hiding from?' came a voice from behind. April whipped around, jumping at least three feet in the air as she did so. She winced as she felt her rib smarting again. Old Bathilda Bagshot was looking up at her curiously.

'Uhm, no one. Nothing' April stuttered. She trusted the old witch, but she did not want to involve her.

'Listen, if someone comes asking for me, could you tell them you haven't seen me? It's just..'

'These are dark times, little April' the old woman said gravely, her eyes full of sympathy. 'Are you in pain? Let me fix that.' Bathilda Bagshot waved her wand and April felt her rib mend.

'You'd better leave now. And good luck, child.'

April's eyes filled with tears once again as she turned on the spot in front of the old, noble witch and with a last sorrowful look at her flat up the lane she vanished into uncertainty.

~o~o~

Scabior stood in the mudblood girl's entry way. A swift spell confirmed that the flat was deserted. Roukin had quickly strolled off into one of the rooms. Scabior paused. Her scent was strong here. It thrilled him.

'Quick! Look at this!' Roukin called out. Scabior followed him into the other room.

'Panties! A whole drawer full of panties!'

Scabior rolled his eyes. As if this wasn't awkward enough already. He left the bedroom and went for the living room. It was tiny and cramped, a small table, three mismatched chairs, an old couch. From the windows Scabior could overlook the other village houses. There wasn't much from which to derive what kind of person lived here. The interior seemed eclectic, bright but practical. He had thought a young woman's flat would look different. Scabior saw a little black box on the table and picked it up. It was a Muggle mobile phone. He had seen those in London. Muggles seemed to use it for communication. Gingerly he put the thing back on the table. This probably meant she wasn't planning on hiding in the Muggle world. Scabior walked through the living room into the kitchen, which was even tinier than the living room. He found ashes in the sink. Pictures had been torn and burned not too long ago. Some pieces were still glowing with heat along the edges. They must have just missed her. The burned photographs were useless. He could not make out a single motif. _Smart girl._ _What are you trying to hide?_ Scabior turned and saw the cork board. A couple of postcards were haphazardly pinned onto it. Scabior had never traveled far, had never left the British Isles to be precise, but he recognized the Statue of Liberty, the Eiffel Tower and the Golden Gate Bridge. Other postcards were filled with city skylines and beaches he had never seen. Randomly he picked one card, turned it over and read:

"_April Darling,_

_when will you decide to get an internet connection? Handwriting postcards is such a nuisance. It seems like you don't even want us to stay in contact. New York is wonderful as usual. The Hendersons have been asking about you. You know their younger son still has a thing for you? We told them you do a degree in English Literature at Warwick. You know there is always a place for you here with us if you decided to come back. America is a great place for all kinds of eccentric people._

_Love, Mom"_

Scabior took another card:

"_Dear April,_

_The company moved us to Brazil again. Can you believe it? They know your Dad cannot stand the humidity. You said you got your dream job. Congratulations! Although your father and I do not understand exactly what it is that you do. Is it a special department with the English police? I'm about to send you a parcel. It's a cell phone. Or mobile as you'd call it over there. Please call us when you get it. Your Dad says Hello.."_

Scabior turned a third card over:

"_April my child,_

_They transferred us to France! I am overjoyed, Paris is wonderful. So European. It reminds me of when we lived in Vienna. You were so small and your Dad had just started out with his job. You have to come and visit! I'll send you a flight ticket. Don't tell me you cannot spare a weekend to spend with your real family.."_

Scabior dropped the cards to the floor. He felt he had intruded too far into the mudblood girl's privacy. _April.. You abandoned child. Seems like you're quite the outcast in your Muggle life. And now we force you out of this one. You must be feeling pretty alone. Where are you hiding now?-_

'You found something, boss?' came Roukin's voice from the door.

'Don't think she's gonna give up her wand willingly. You find something noteworthy in her underwear drawer?'

Roukin looked guilty. 'No, it looks like someone already went through her stuff. I'm guessing she packed a couple of things.'

Scabior sighed. 'Let's go. She won't be coming back soon.'

Roukin shuffled ahead. Scabior went to close the door when he noticed the hat. A large black tricorn. It made him stop in his tracks. _That girl._ The girl with the ridiculous tricorn. She had run into him, and because of that ridiculous hat he almost hadn't been able to see her face, only taken in her cinnamon scent. He had remembered that much already. But there was more. Long hair under that hat as she slid out the door of the Three Broomsticks. He had followed her. He had wanted to see the face under that hat. He had been curious if the face matched the sweet smell. He recalled it now. How her long hair had swayed in the light breeze, how she had been so far ahead of him down the village lane. How she had disappeared into blackness and how the Dementor had found him. He hadn't imagined it. There had been a Dementor. And she must have set it on him. As an Auror she had wanted him locked up again. That was why she had been amongst the Death Eaters. _April, you little bitch._

~o~o~

April didn't have to think twice about where to apparate. She took a deep, calming breath as she took in the view. She was in the mountains, up on top where the fir trees became sparse. Her eyes flew over the dark lake in the valley bellow, wandered over the tiny village nestled in the distance, flew slightly up again where the ancient castle lay. For the first time in days her tension subsided. It was silent up here. There was not a soul around. For a second she thought back to her flat, which must by now be ravaged by filthy Snatcher hands, but it seemed very far away now. _I'm alright, I have my wand. I'm still free._ She captured the feeling that arose from these words and cast her Patronus. The wolf ran excitedly off through the trees. She knew it was foolish to conjure a Patronus without imminent danger from Dementors or to send urgent messages, but she had to admit she did it sometimes regardless. It was unwise to reveal the shape of one's Patronus to strangers, but up here she was alone. The white wolf was like a friend to her, as if he were a real animal, her pet. She watched the wolf darting over the mountain top, sniffing the ground for traces of danger. Then she sat down, leaned against a large rock and stretched her legs. She closed her eyes for a moment. She was exhausted, but she didn't allow herself to rest, not yet. Instead she rummaged in her shoulder bag for her notebook and a ball point pen (indeed a Muggle object, but a darn practical one; April would never understand why wizards refused to use it). She leafed through her notebook to find an empty page. Her Patronus came back out of the forest, sat down next to her. Then she began her list. It was a list of names. She wrote one underneath the other, the way one would write a To Do list. It were the names she had overheard at the Three Broomsticks, names of known Death Eaters that had been on her Auror Most Wanted List, it was the name of the werewolf Fenrir Greyback. She wrote the names of Yaxley, Runcorn and Umbridge from the Ministry. Finally she wrote _Scabior_. Then she crossed his name out and wrote instead: SNATCHERS

It was a long list but she was in no rush. She would take them down one by one. She was trained to do that. She would spread the same terror these people exerted over Muggle-borns. She would fight for her freedom until the end.

She gathered her things and got to her feet. The sun was already low behind the thin cover of grey clouds. April gazed one last time at Hogwarts Castle, then made her way downhill, her Patronus frolicking after her. She would stay at Rosmerta's tonight.

~o~o~

Scabior had questioned a couple of April's neighbours, all of whom had claimed not to have seen her recently. Godric's Hollow was full of pure-blood wizards, but no one had been in the least helpful.

'Doesn't matter' Scabior said to Roukin as they got ready to apparate back to London. 'We'll track her down anyway.'

'Why is she even important? I know it's kinda our fault she's on the run, but she's just some mudblood girl. She's not even high priority in the Undesirables book' Roukin argued, slightly bored of the whole afternoon, as they entered the Leaky Cauldron.

Scabior didn't know what to respond. He wouldn't tell Roukin about that night in Hogsmeade. He could not explain it, but somehow he felt he had a right to that girl. She had tried to overpower him with that Dementor and had failed. And now the odds had changed, he was in charge now and he would grind her down. _You won't be alone for long, lonely little April.. _He would be the one to make her defiant eyes wide with fear. Capturing her was more than a job; it was personal.

~o~o~

Rosmerta had welcomed April, who had sneaked through the Three Broomstick's back door into the kitchen, with open arms. Now April was fed home-made stew by the kitchen fire and felt better with every spoonful she gobbled down.

'My barman had his blood-purity hearing early this afternoon and he's still not back.. How did you get away? I heard those Snatchers are pretty fierce' Rosmerta said, worry showing in her face.

'I was lucky. But they followed me back to my flat. I need a place to crash tonight.' April looked at Rosmerta expectantly.

'Of course, you can stay as long as you'd like. The place is completely deserted. No one goes out for a drink, no one travels openly anymore. The foul-smelling giant was here earlier. Asked if I'd seen Harry Potter. As if I'd tell him if I did. These Snatchers make me nervous. Three of them were here for breakfast the other day and I overheard their conversation-'

'Was the long-haired one with them? The thin, pale one?' _The one who's all cheekbones and dark green-grey eyes that sparkle and lean muscle under his shirt.._

'Yes' Rosmerta said with surprise in her voice at April's keenness, 'the timid one. He's quite an interesting fellow, that one.'

'Wouldn't call him timid anymore.' April looked down at her bruised right wrist. 'More like brutal, mad and dangerous.'

'That's either the reason or the result of his stay at Azkaban. I told you, I heard them. He's been there for years. He must have seen terrible things. Those Dementors, they freeze up your heart. You can tell when you look at him. Why they release blokes like that is beyond me. They are marred for life, unpredictable. And I think I even remember him from Hogwarts. He was a couple of years older than me..'

April did not want to hear any more.

'I think, I'm going to bed.'

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**Heeeey, you made it through another long chapter! Congrats and thank you!**

**Review if you'd like, please xx**


	7. Chapter 6

**From here onwards this story is rated M as it is getting increasingly darker as the plot develops. Yaaaaay!**

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**ALL IS FAIR**

CHAPTER 6

April stumbled up the stairs through the pub, dragging her shoulder bag behind. On the first floor she picked a room at random – Rosmerta had said there were no other guests.

While April set her bag down, lit the lamp and put her wand under the bed's pillow to keep safe and handy for the night, Rosmerta's words echoed in her mind. _This Scabior.. Unpredictable.. Azkaban.. Marred for life.. With a frozen heart.._ April shivered involuntarily.

She washed, undressed and crawled under the soft sheets.

Then she remembered something, rummaged in her bag and found the photograph of her and her parents. They were standing on top the Eiffel Tower. The picture had been taken by another tourist on her dad's brand new digital camera. April was framed by her parents, solid as rock. She put the picture on the nightstand. _I can imagine what you would have to say about all this. Poor little April on the run. Always the problem child, always the outcast, even in the world she chose for herself.. _

Then she sank back and fell asleep immediately. _I'm safe here_, were her last thoughts.

~o~o~

He was on top of her again. It must have been easy enough for him to find her. Why had she chosen to return to The Three Broomsticks of all places? This was where they had first met. Of course he would be looking for her here.

It was pitch dark in the room, but April did not need her eyes to know it was him. As if she recognized the way his lean body felt through his clothes as he leaned into her. She could smell his scent that already seemed so familiar. _Like burning wood, so warm._ She did not even bother to scream as he trapped her underneath him on the bed.

What would happen now? He could grab her and disapparate with her straight to the Ministry. _And I'm wearing nothing but underwear,_ April thought incoherently. _I should get into the habit of sleeping fully dressed in case I get abducted._ But somehow it seemed like he was not planning on going anywhere with her. He had something different in mind. It puzzled her. With her arms pinned to her sides by his strong hands she could not struggle as he bent his head down to her face. She attempted to turn her head away but his eyes were like magnets. His lips suddenly seemed inviting. They did not shout angry orders, or hiss insults. His mouth was close to hers now.

'Warm my cold heart' he whispered. 'Make the loneliness go away.'

And hearing his melancholy voice, her own heart gave in. As his lips met hers, she did not recoil as she had planned but opened her mouth and accepted him. He was gentle. She felt his groin moving between her thighs. He was leaning into her, grazing against her in a slow rhythm. She enclosed him with her legs as his lips moved to her neck, caressing it softly. His hands released hers as they discovered her body. Her wrist did not hurt anymore. Freed she reached for his hair, pulling his face back up so her eyes could find his.

_We will make each other less lonely_, her eyes said and he understood.

She felt him getting hard. She kissed his lips, her hands getting lost in his hair, while he reached down to open his pants. He ripped her panties off and she didn't mind a bit. He would make her whole. He had the power to end her suffering here and now. How she longed to be relieved from her troubled existence. He would be her merciful executioner; she had waited for him all her life. She could feel him now skin on skin and knew, that in a moment he would enter her, fill her up, complete her. She looked up at him and suddenly his eyes were full of sadness.

_Lonely,_ they said.

And things went black and his eyes faded into the blackness and were gone, and April awoke with a start. Flushed and aroused and ashamed and..

Lonely.

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**Sorry, this was a real quickie with a trick ending. Hope you enjoyed it nevertheless.**

**Feel free to review! My story currently has 13 reviews and that's just such an unlucky number.. ;) xx**


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